


falling asleep (and never waking up)

by koifishthatwrites



Series: to fix what's broken [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Depressed Oma Kokichi, Depression, Gay Oma Kokichi, Gen, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, Killing Game Was A Virtual Reality Simulation (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, My First Fanfic, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Oma Kokichi-centric, One-Sided Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Ouma not Oma, Out of Character Oma Kokichi, POV Oma Kokichi, Panic Attacks, Regret, Sad Oma Kokichi, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, almost missed that one, btw kokichi doesn't die, can be triggering, he just thinks he does, maybe?? - Freeform, no beta we like men, this is gonna be a mess, virtual reality au, whatever im tagging that just in case, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koifishthatwrites/pseuds/koifishthatwrites
Summary: The first time he actually remembers waking up, he’s alone, in a tiny white room where the walls keep closing in.Not even a minute later, a nurse runs in. He doesn’t care enough to take in how she looks or what she’s doing or what she sounds like, all he knows is the pain of the hydraulic press closing in and squeezing every bit of life out of him and crushing him into tiny, bloody bits.He screams.He screams until his throat is raw and his surroundings are blurry as the white syringe sinks into his all too pale skin.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & DICE, Oma Kokichi & Everyone, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: to fix what's broken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053170
Comments: 13
Kudos: 191





	falling asleep (and never waking up)

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: please! read! the! tags! 
> 
> This can be extremely triggering!

The first time he actually remembers waking up, he’s alone, in a tiny white room where the walls keep closing in.

Not even a minute later, a nurse runs in. He doesn’t care enough to take in how she looks or what she’s doing or what she sounds like, all he knows is the pain of the hydraulic press closing in and squeezing every bit of life out of him and crushing him into tiny, bloody bits.

He screams.

He screams until his throat is raw and his surroundings are blurry as the white syringe sinks into his all too pale skin.

* * *

The next he awakes, he has the panic attack of the century. No amount of nurses could help with it.

As the syringe sank in, so did the situation and the question of how the everloving hell he wasn’t dead.

* * *

When he wakes up for the third time, he thankfully doesn’t have a panic attack nor screams but it’s a damn near thing.

The nurse explains how none of it was real, how it was just a virtual reality game and the urge to scream worsens.

Nonetheless, he smiles at her, one full of plastic, and tells her to get out.

* * *

It feels like electricity running through his veins and the hydraulic press crushing his lungs and his ears fills with cotton as the bitter, bitter realization that all the atrocities he’d committed meant absolutely nothing sank in.

* * *

The nurse, the same one from before, gingerly asks if he wants to go to the halls to eat with the others.

It was such a simple question, yet it made him want to cry and scream.

Instead, he smiles. Ignoring the cracks that grow bigger with time.

(He says no, of course. How’d the others feel with a useless, good for nothing murderer eating amongst them?)

* * *

He doesn’t leave his room. No one comes to visit him either.

That’s alright for him. Villains don’t have friends. Villains don’t deserve friends. Villains don’t need friends.

… So why did his chest ache every time he heard laughter coming from halls?

* * *

Everyday, the nurse whose name he still doesn’t know asks him if he wants to have dinner with the others.

Everyday, he says no.

Everyday, he wanders what it’d be like to go to sleep and never wake up.

* * *

Eventually, the nurse stops asking if he’ll have dinner outside.

He pretends the disappointed look she sends his way doesn’t hurt.

* * *

The realization that D.I.C.E isn’t real hits him a few weeks later.

His eyes fill with tears as he remembers Ayami booming laughter mixing with his own after a successful prank on Takeo who grumbles and swears he’ll get them next time, Zen’s tired yet fond smile, Tsutako snickering at some anime, Neo's soft humming as he cooks them the best meals one could ask for, the baby they'd taken in just recently giggling and wrapping his tiny, precious fingers around his own.

He cries himself to sleep that night.

* * *

Soon, days start to blend in together. No detail to any of them.

They stay monotone no matter how hard he tries to color them.

* * *

Once, he overhears the others talking about him outside the door of his room.

He knew he should’ve just called a nurse to shoo them away.

He doesn’t.

He already knew they hated him. (right?)

Nothing they said would hurt him anymore than he was now. (right?)

* * *

‘How rude.’ He huffs as they trash talk about him in front of his own fucking room. Idiots could’ve at least tried to not be somewhat careful of their surroundings. How they survived the killing game, he doesn’t know.

The mere thought of the killing game sends a swirl of panic through his body. He scoffs.

“To think even the thought does that to me. How pathetic.” He mutters to himself.

(The cracks in his mask widens just a bit more, as they talk.)

* * *

With every day that passes, the more it _(̶h̶e̶_ _)_ cracks.

With everyday that passes, the feeling of suffocating loneliness grows.

With everyday that passes, the urge to throw himself off the roof and fall asleep forever increases.

* * *

Sometimes Kokichi wonders what it’d be like to have people by his side, people that’d never leave him no matter how many times he lies or tries to push them away.

_(" **You're alone and you always will be".** )_

He banishes it as quickly as it becomes coherent.

* * *

On good days, his mind is blank, his chest is empty and the ever growing pain becomes a dull ache for him to ignore.

On bad days, it’s hard to breathe, the pain gnaws at his chest until he’s heaving and the mind breaking nightmares make his vision go black and the words of his beloved detective— did he even deserve to call him that?— echo into his ears until tears are spilling out of his shiny violet eyes.

_(_ **_“You’re alone and you always will be.”_ ** _)_

* * *

Until one day, it shatters.

The mask, the persona he works so hard to keep up, so hard to build, _shatters_.

And so does he.

The thin thread between the want to keep living and the want to fall asleep and never wake up has ceased to exist and soon he will be the same.

* * *

And then he’s suddenly at the rooftop.

The hospital’s nearly 4 stories high, there was no way he’d survive from this.

Or so he hopes.

Climbing the stairs after nearly six months of not walking and going by undetected would be impossible. At least in daylight.

At night however? He’d had no problems whatsoever.

So now, here he is. Dangling on the thin line between death and life.

For a brief moment, he lets himself wander. What if things had been different? What if Akamatsu-chan didn’t die? What if he never killed Iruma-chan and Gonta? What if he never put up the villain persona? What if he’d let the others befriend him? What if Shumai—

Ahh, Shumai. Saihara Shuuichi, the Ultimate Detective, the man who beat the game that haunts them all, the man he’d tried to befriend in his own way, the man who understood the clues he left behind—

The man he loves.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Shumai. Probably when he’d said the words that give him nightmares when the hydraulic press doesn’t.

_(_ **_“You’re alone and you always will be.”_ ** _)_

  
  


Slowly, he raises his hand. There’s no mark as he expects, just a limb far too pale than it should be.

He traces the ring finger, the one Shumai had bandaged when cut himself in the knife game.

‘It was almost like a proposal,’ He giggles, a tad bit hysterically, at the thought.

“Really, deluding myself in fantasies that’ll never happen, what has the Ultimate Supreme Leader come to?”

He hums quiet as he takes a step forward, nearly at the edge.

Another step.

Another step.

Another step.

Another step.

Ah, he’s reached the end.

Strangely at peace, he gazes down. If he were to jump from here, there was at least an 80% chance of death most likely, with nothing to cushion it.

He takes a deep breath and lets himself go.

For a moment that feels like an eternity, the world stops and he just breathes.

Then everything is back in motion and he falls.

Distantly, he could hear someone yell but that doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

As he falls, he thinks of the brief talks he had with Amami-chan, of the time he spent with Gonta, of the times he’d spent teasing the easily flustered Kiibo, of the budding bond he’d had with Tojou-chan the only person who came the closest to becoming a mother figure, of Shumai’s hesitant smile at one of the jokes he’d made.

He smiles, one last tear escaping his eye as he goes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> why i did this? i have no idea!
> 
> please inform me if im missing any tags, ill add them as soon as i can


End file.
